


A Strange Man in a Trenchcoat

by tiatodd



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel's Trenchcoat, Drunkenness, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 12:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiatodd/pseuds/tiatodd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's late and you're out with two shopaholics, and you just really really want to go home. Or make out with some random stranger. Then a drunken angel stumbles into your life, and...excuse you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Strange Man in a Trenchcoat

**Author's Note:**

> This story doesn't take place in any particular season. Don't torture yourself trying to put together context clues to figure it out, haha. Um also I apologize. For everything.

“You said five minutes,” you grumbled bitterly, leaning up against the brick wall of a newly-popular clothing store down town. You had agreed to go out and have fun with a friend, for dinner at Pizza Hut and then Iron Man 3 at Imax. Your friend’s rich cousin Bethany, who also acted as chauffer in the ’72 Chevy Nova she had begged Daddy to let her drive, was paying for all of it. The idea had seemed perfect, with no strings attached…

Except for the clothing shopping after the movie. It was now nearing eleven PM and your friend and her cousin had been shopping for hours, trying on entire racks of clothing, piling everything they bought into the back seat where you would be sitting on the way home.

Aside from feeling very bored and lonely right now, you were also a little bit in dire need of some physical contact. By this point, you had fantasized exactly four scenarios that involved you approaching a random (and very attractive) stranger and asking for a good make-out, and one involved offering payment if that had to be the case.

Eyes set on the car, you watched as yet another man approached it to ogle. In the low light, you could make out a young, handsome face and a tan trenchcoat. He leaned up to the car and peered into the window, then rapped on it. “Dean?”

“Um, hey…hey, buddy, that’s not your friend’s car,” you said, pushing away from the wall to go approach the stranger. You could smell the alcohol on him from a foot away. “Damn. Uh, hey, that’s…not your car.”

He tried the handle regardless.

“HEY.” Now he looked up, very puzzled.

“You’re not…Dean…” He stood upright (or as upright as any drunk person can) and looked at the car again. “This looks like ‘s car.”

“Well, it’s…not…it’s my friend’s car.”

He looked puzzled and oh, so beautiful. Perhaps one of your make-out fantasies would come true, even if he was horribly sloshed. He remained silent for a long moment. “Oh.”

“Are you…looking for someone? Are you lost?”

“Nnnno, jus’ saw the—hic—car…damn…” He ran a hand over his face. “Thought it was Dean’s. Dean’s into cars. Are you sure thisn’t Dean’s car? Are you his new girlfriend?”

“Uh…no? But if you’re Dean, then I’d like to be,” you mumbled.

The man straightened up again, head cocked to the side as he unintentionally leaned into the car. “Was that a…’come on’?”

This drunk and he could still understand a line? Impressive. “Maybe. What’s your name, stranger?”

“Castiel,” he said proudly in his rough tone. “I am an angel of the Lord. Do not be—hic—afraid.” He held up his hands as though to calm you. “’N’ I come in peace.”

You buried your face in your hands, trying very hard not to laugh out loud. “Oh, no, don’t worry, Castiel. Have you a message for me?”

“No. I’m taking the night off.”

You bit down on your knuckle. “The night off, hm? That would explain the drinking.” Many cars had been driving past all night, and just now you looked up into Castiel’s eyes right as a pair of headlights illuminated them. Breathtakingly blue. “I ah…have to ask. What else are you planning to do on your ‘night off’?”

The supposed angel’s brilliant eyes looked you up and down slowly, and a goofy grin broke over his face. “I jus’thought of a really bad joke,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

“Wanna tell it?”

He took a breath and looked to the side, like he was about to say no, but then shrugged his shoulders. “You said what’m I planning to do, and I could—hic—could’ve answered ‘you,’ implying that I would—hic—wan’ have sexual relations with you…hmhm.” He waved a finger at you with a let-me-tell-you grin. “That’s not nearly ‘s funny in Enochian.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re…pretty strange. Even if you’re drunk.”

“I’m nod trunk! Not…I’m not drunk. I am going to leave now.” He barely made it three steps before stumbling sideways into you. You yelped, trying to deal with the sudden weight with which you had been burdened. “I might have…h-had a bit much to trink…”

Your current position would be comical if your back didn’t feel ready to snap. Castiel was now weighting you down enough that your shoulder blades could feel the cool hood of the car. He slapped a hand on the hood, supporting his weight on that arm. You pushed back on his chest, and incidentally felt his heartbeat. Right, you still really needed a good necking. And you were having a very, very difficult time keeping him more than three inches off you.

You managed to get enough grip with your feet to push him back, but now you didn’t really want too all that badly because he was very pretty. He had surprisingly gentle lips for a man, his chin roughened with just enough stubble to be incredibly sexy. His thick, dark eyebrows had been lowered over his eyes since you had first seen him, giving him an air of intense confusion. You really needed to get this man off you. Just looking at him was starting to…do things.

And then he said a thing.

“You are vvvvery attractive.”

Your arms went weak. Okay. I mean, you supposed you could just stay in this compromising position under a drunken stranger on the hood of your friend’s cousin’s dad’s car. “Attract—how much have you had to drink, sir?”

“Oh, about,” he said, turning his head toward his shoulder and half-closing his eyes, lips whispering numbers. “Ffffive…shelves.”

“Shelves?”

“Okay, m-mayyybe seven. Ssseven or—hic—eight. Don’t tell Dean.”

“I don’t even know Dean.”

“Really? That’s a shame, he’sssssuch a nice guy. Actually he’s kind of a jerk…Dean’s pretty mean to me sometimes…”

“I’m…sorry to hear that.” Your heart was still deciding what to do from back when he had called you attractive. What had he meant by shelves? The poor, intoxicated soul. The poor, intoxicated, very attractive soul who for some explainable but not very socially appropriate reason was still on top of you. Part of you felt really embarrassed and slightly violated, and the other part of you wanted to make him forget about this Dean person and just “Can we make out?”

Excuse you?

You were literally just about to apologize for that embarrassing outburst when Castiel took you up on your offer, leaning (or drooping) down to press his lips against yours. “Mmh!”

The first thing you noticed was the strong taste of whiskey, but that was a given. The next thing was that his kiss was as intense as his gaze. God bless the drunken mindset of not having enough inhibition to be shy. The third thing you noticed was that you were arching toward him, thanks to a strong, warm hand on your back. Your brain struggled for a moment between wait-this-is-strange and wow-this-guy-is-really-hot-let’s-go-for-it. Screw-it-let’s-do-this finally won over, and you gave into the kiss with a relieved whimper, linking your hands behind his neck.

He kissed you lazily, lower lip acting heavy and slow. Your breathing picked up and you slid your hands over his shirt, from stomach to chest to waistline. It suddenly occurred to you how badly you wanted to get this man out of his pants. Taking his scratchy cheeks into both your hands, you pulled him deeper into the kiss, letting his tongue fall through your lips. Your body practically suctioned itself to his, and Castiel made the mistake of taking his hand off the car to hold you, because as soon as that happened he fell forward and your back slammed against the hood. “OW!”

“Nmf…ohgod, ‘m so sorry…”

You physically could be angry, because his face had fallen into the crook of your neck and his hot breath on your skin both tickled and aroused you. You rolled your shoulders. “It’s…nhh…ow.”

With one hand on the hood at either side of you, he pushed back until he was hovering about a foot above you, droopy eyes apologetic. “I’m really sorry, hhhere…I can…fix…I-I’m an angel. I’m an angel, issalright.” He held up one hand, again as if to calm you.

“Dude, you’re not an angel, you’re just drunk—wh—“

Your back felt completely fine.

“S’all better, see I tol’ you—hic—t’trussst me.”

There was a perfectly logical explanation for this. Obviously, you hadn’t hit the car that hard. That was all. One of those sharp pains that quickly dulled. “Yeah…okay, yeah. Sure. You’re an angel.”

He stared down at you with a fairly blank expression. “Do you want continue or should I leave?”

How dare he ask you that question when so unfairly was he positioned above you in the most submission-demanding manner and you clearly still wanted to make out. If he wasn’t so damned attractive, he would definitely be gone by now.

You reached a hand into your pocket, slowly, not breaking your gaze on his eyes. There, keys. “Okay. Back of the car.”

Castiel looked confused, like he hadn’t heard, so you patted his cheek and ducked out of his arms, unlocking the door and climbing into the cramped back seat. You shoved all the clothing bags aside. At the moment, fashion was not nearly as important as getting to second base with this stranger right now. “C’mon, Trenchcoat.”

The man looked, again, confused, and looked down at his attire. “Just the coat…?”

“No, all of you! Come on!”

He climbed in after you, and you reached around him to close the door, quickly seizing him by the epaulets to pull him down on top of you. “Oof…s’small back h-here…” A car with particularly bright lights passed, revealing Castiel’s red face. He seemed a bit worried, regarding you with uncertainty.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeahmfine.” His half-lidded eyes fluttered entirely closed and his lips came down on your jawline, dragging slowly up to your chin. You hummed in appreciation and kissed his lips, trying to fix yourself under him in a comfortable position. In the end you had to settle for one foot on the car floor while your other leg pressed against the seat back to accommodate Castiel between your legs.

“H-here,” you whispered, taking his hands in yours. You placed each hand on your breasts, and watched as he completely froze up. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Y-yes…I’m…ffffine…”

You sighed, kissing his neck and behind his ear, rubbed your cheek against his rough one, combed your fingers through his very healthy hair. Once your nails raked over an apparently sensitive spot on the back of his head, he moaned and loosened up, and you felt his hands squeeze your breasts. “Ohh…yes, good. Don’t be shy, now.”

Once he had passed that obstacle, everything escalated rather quickly. Soon, your shirt was off as well as your bra, and his trenchcoat was on the car floor, and he was sitting upright and you were in his lap, and he had suddenly become really comfortable with what he was doing to your breasts. Forget second base. You were running all the way home. It was going to happen.

“Oh, oh…Castiel…”

He growled, face between your breasts as he licked and bit them, hands cupping them from underneath with his thumbs keeping your nipples at attention. “I didn’t realize that…the…that—hic—female breasts could be so…mmm…enjoyable…”

You blushed hotly. “Have you never been with a woman before?”

“Been…? I don’t un’stand your question…hhhyou’re really attractive.” He rested his face against one of your breasts and looked up at you with the most longing, lovesick eyes you had ever seen. His hands wrapped around your back and he just stared up at you, until his eyes started to close.

“Casti—whoa!” You fell sideways along with him in his hold, and while it made for some very cozy cuddling, this was not the best time.

“Knock knock—oh my god!” shouted Friend’s cousin, gaping at you from the door. You shrugged and mouthed sorry, and then placed a finger to your lips.

“Shh. He’s sleeping.”

“Who even is he!” she whispered harshly.

“The most adorable little angel puppy. Can we keep him?”

“Lemme see!” said your friend’s voice. You covered up your bare breasts as she leaned in to look. She pondered for a serious moment, and then nodded. “He’s hot. Let’s seriously take him home with us.”

“Yes. I love you.”

“Put some clothes on first.”

“Yeah, yeah.”


End file.
